


Strawberries in Rain: Letters to the Dead

by junko



Series: Strawberrry Fields Forever [1]
Category: Bleach, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:31:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Kurosaki family have relocated to London, England for a year, and, as always seems to happen to Ichigo, things get very strange, very quickly....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strawberries in Rain: Letters to the Dead

**Author's Note:**

> I have officially lost my mind. I was inspired to start this cross-over after having been recced "Harry Potter and the God of Death." I found myself very taken with the idea of Ichigo interacting with the characters and world of Harry Potter, and... as they say, the rest is history.
> 
> I have to warn for mild language. Ichigo will use rude language from time to time.
> 
> Some notes: 
> 
> For fans of Harry Potter, this is your introduction to Ichigo Kurosaki and his family. Exactly what kind of magic he has will be slowly revealed (hopefully to humorous effect) throughout the rest of the series. This will be taking place in Harry's first year, but Ichigo is fifteen years old, so I'm hoping to put him in Fred and George's class. Though due to the fact that he's not a traditional magic-user, he and Harry and company will have a lot of interactions.
> 
> For Bleach fans--I've hijacked Ichigo just after his return from the Soul Society. He has not yet met the Vizard, and, consequentally, doesn't yet have control of Hollow Ichigo. This should make sorting him into a Hogwart's House pretty interesting.
> 
> Also, this is for Mason, who is a big fan of both Bleach and Harry Potter and whose birthday is today.

 

***

 

Ichigo was beginning to understand why Zangetsu hated the rain. It seemed it was always raining here, in this strange new country his idiot father had dragged the family to.

_A whole year._

Somehow Ichigo had to survive English food for an entire year, until dear old pop finished whatever stupid new medical training he could only get in this gods forsaken country. Then, they could go home--back to real life, decent sushi, and all his friends.

_All except the most important one, of course._

Ichigo stood in the drizzle outside the Agon Shu Temple at 3 Queen Square, London, feeling stupid. He held a letter to Rukia in his hand and three sticks of incense. “This had better work, Hat-and-Clogs,” he muttered to himself, going up the stairs.

Whoever heard of a temple that had business hours? But, Ichigo had tried coming at midnight last night, hoping for a little privacy, only to find the door locked. Now, it pushed open easily.

Seeing shoes piled in the entryway, Ichigo was stabbed by an intense feeling of homesickness. _Wow_ , he thought, leaving his own among the others, _who knew such a little thing could be so… powerful?_

He bowed at the doorway, grateful that, at least, the place smelled right, and, even though he sucked at sensing reistsu—it was here. Even he could feel spiritual pressure thrumming all around, permeating the walls. That was comforting, because, despite the shoes, everything else was wrong. It was like there were little bits of home stuck awkwardly onto an alien landscape. For instance, there were shoji screens, but the floors were some weird polished wood that made Ichigo’s socks slip as he ventured in further inside, looking for an altar to the dead.

A portly lady came rushing up to Ichigo with a toothy, crooked grin. She had hair that stuck up in wild, white curls, “Hello!”

Ichigo was so stunned to be approached by an attendant that he bowed instantly and said good morning in Japanese before remembering he was in England. “Uh,” he tried again, “That is, ‘hi.’”

It was so strange that ‘yes’ meant ‘hello’ here.

“Are you here for mediation class?” Her voice was annoying cheerful and grating this early in the morning. Ichigo had taken the first train--er, 'tube' available.  It was only just after dawn, and he hadn't had a decent cup of tea.  Not that the English seemed to have good green tea anywhere.  “You're welcome, of course!  We’re only just starting!”

Ichigo shook his head. “I’m sorry, no. I’m just here to send a letter to my friend in the Soul Society. I mean, I want to, uh—“ _Shit._ What was it that Hat-and-Clogs said he should tell people if they asked?

The woman had been looking him over as he stumbled for an answer and her eyes lit on the incense in his hand. “Oh,” she said suddenly, her voice quieter, sadder. “I see. Of course,” she touched him lightly on the shoulder and directed him to a room off to the left. “How long ago did your friend die?”

“Huh?” Ichigo frowned; it was hard to remember that was the truth—Rukia was in the land of the dead, all the Soul Society was. How long had Rukia been a shinigami, anyway? At least fifty years, but she’d probably been ‘dead’ more like a couple of hundred. Still, he couldn’t say that. This lady would freak out and think he was crazy. Ichigo was never any good at lying with much conviction, so he settled for a half-truth, “She… crossed over a month ago or so.”

Had it really only been that long since Byakuya and Renji showed up to take Rukia back?  It seemed like forever since he, Ishida, Chad, and Inoue made the trip to the Soul Society and back again.

“Okay, well, I’ll leave you alone,” she said, after giving him a little shove in the direction of the altar.

Ichigo stared at the altar in dismay. It was clear that hardly anyone had used it. The surface was clean, free of incense powder, and there were no used, spent sticks stuck among plastic cherry blossoms.

The ancestors in England must weep.

Ichigo took out the letter he’d written Rukia and, after lighting the incense, put flame to the paper as well. He held it in his hand, rereading the words, as it burned.

> _Dear Rukia,_
> 
> _Ha! I wrote this in code just like the last note you left me. Have fun deciphering it. Check out my drawing. I think I might actually be a worse artist than you are, though your standards are pretty hard to beat._
> 
> _I hope you’re feeling better and that Byakuya is treating you okay. Tell that older brother of yours that he should loosen up a little. They say humor is the best medicine. Maybe you can get Renji to tell him some filthy jokes to make him laugh._
> 
> _My family had to leave Japan. I guess that guy they sent to watch over Karakura Town gets to keep his job for another year until I can get back. We’re living in London, England now, and, even though I check the soul cell constantly, there don’t seem to be nearly as many Hollows here as back home. Lots of ghosts, though. I’ve used Zangetsu a couple of times to send them on their way to you all._

Ichigo had started burning the letter at the top, and the flames were just now blackening the paper at the lines he’d found so hard to write.

> _I miss you. I know you belong there, but I wish we could still see each other. I’ve never felt so far away from everyone, so out of place, and I need to talk to someone about it. I know it’s dorky, but I’m going to write to you every day. Hat-and-Clogs says you'll get this if I burn it at an altar to the dead. I hope that crazy shopkeeper is right. Because, I'd like to imagine that, as you read these letters, I can still be with you in your heart._

The flames had reached his fingers and he had to let go.

Letting go was always hardest. In fact, Ichigo’s flesh burned before he could.

#

 

Back at home, the apartment was its usual chaos. His youngest sister, Yuzu was fussing around the narrow kitchen in her apron, digging through boxes whining about a lost rice cooker. The middle sister, Karin, was bouncing a soccer ball on her knee in the living room. Ichigo stuck his head in carefully, ready, as always for a sneak attack from his crazy-ass father, Isshin.

He wasn’t quite prepared for Dad’s powerful to kick the door, however, and the wooden frame knocked Ichigo in the head and pushed him back out into the hallway. He stumbled. Hitting the wall, he let himself slide down to the floor. Ichigo lay on his back on the nubby carpeting, dazed for a moment. A snow-white owl suddenly came out of nowhere perched itself on his upraised knees.

Claws dug into his jeans, and its round, bright eyes were filled with a weird sort of intelligence. After a moment of staring stupidly at it, Ichigo noticed that the owl seemed to be holding something in its beak.

_A letter?_

Could Rukia have written back somehow already?  Ichigo thought maybe he'd heard somewhere that white owls were omens of death here in the West.  Could this be how the Soul Society would communicate with him here?  Why not just use the soul cell phone Ukitake had given him along with the substitute Soul Reaper pendant?

“Ichigo!” his father’s voice boomed from the door. Dad had on one of the loud, Hawaiian shirts he preferred, open low enough to show a gross amount of black chest hair. Despite his trim flat top, he always looked in need of a decent shave, too. “What are you doing laying around, boy? I expect you to fight me!”

A second owl, a small brown one, soared silently past Isshin’s head, through the now open doorway. He started, losing his bravado.

“What the hell was that?” Dad asked. At the same moment, he seemed to notice the owl perched on Ichigo’s knees. “A snowy owl?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo said. “It’s brought letter or something.”

“Hey,” shouted Karin from inside, “I got one too!”

“Well, open it up, boy! What does it say?”

Trust Isshin not to be fazed by the arrival of mail by courier owl. Ichigo, however, reached out a nervous hand to pluck the stiff parchment envelope from the bird. It blinked and released its package, and, after a soft hoot, shot back into the air to flutter down the hall. Ichigo watched it veer out an open window on the landing.

Dad had come over to crouch down next to Ichigo. Ichigo could smell Dad’s ridiculously flowery scented aftershave. He crinkled his nose, and tore open the waxen seal.

It was not from Rukia.

In fact, the letter was written in English and in a weird spidery script Ichigo had to struggle to parse out. For Dad’s benefit, Ichigo read it out loud, “Dear Mr. Ichigo Kurosaki, this letter informs you of your acceptance to Hogwarts as a transfer student. We have made provisions to have you placed as a fourth year, due to your age, provided that you can show proficiency in rudimentary magic. It’s signed, headmaster Dumbledore.”

“Magic?” Isshin asked, “And what’s a hog’s wart?”

“Some kind of school, I guess,” Ichigo said. “Weren’t you applying to have me go somewhere this fall?”

“Yes, but no place with hogs or magic or dumb doors,” Isshin scanning the words, even though Ichigo knew there was no way his dad could read cursive English. “Is that all it says?”

“No,” Ichigo said. “There’s a P.S. It says, ‘We will be sending a representative to answer any of your questions and help you prepare for attendance. I am personally looking forward to learning from our colleagues from Japan!”

“Well,” Isshin said with a grunt as he pulled himself to his feet. “At least they seem excited to have you. I can’t say you impressed the other schools much. Your grades are flawless, of course, but they keep using the word--” Dad switched to English to speak very slowly, “--‘delinquent.’ Do you know what that means?”

 _That I can’t even get away from my reputation half-way across the world._ “No, Dad,” Ichigo said, taking the hand offered to pull him to his feet. “Sorry. No idea.”

Dad gave him a side-long look that made Ichigo think maybe Isshin knew exactly what the word meant, but then he clapped a meaty hand on Ichigo’s back and shouted, “Let’s celebrate. Two of my babies are off to study hogs and doors! Ah, if only your mother, my beloved Masaki, were here to see you now!”

 

#

 

The woman Hogwarts sent was very… odd, even for an Englishwoman. She had on the most ginormous hat, though Ichigo thought she reminded him a little of Yoruichi for some reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She was politely nibbling the mochi treats Yuzu had put in front of her, but she seemed sort of put off by the red bean paste center.

“These are very… different,” she said, trying to smile, while alternately seeming to search for a place to hide the one she’d taken a bite of.

They were alone at the kitchen table. Yuzu had gone off to read in the room she shared with Karin. Dad was out for the day, having headed off to his school early this morning already. Karin was out with her soccer team, but this woman, a professor Mc-Something said that was okay because Karin would have less to adjust to, coming in to Hogwarts as a first year.

“Uh, so, it’s a boarding school?” Ichigo asked again. He was having trouble with this concept. “How far away is it?”

“Oh, that changes all the time,” she waved her hand dismissively. “But, it’s important to be some distance out, you know, as we need to be away from all the Muggles. For secrecy and safety.”

“Sure,” Ichigo said, though he had no idea what she was talking about. “And where is this place I get my school supplies?”

“Diagon Alley,” she smiled. “I can take you there by Floo Powder later.”

“Yeah, uh, sounds great.”

She nodded, and they stared at each other for an uncomfortable moment before she pursed her thin lips and said, “If I may ask: where is your wand, my dear?”

“My what?”

“It’s just that you seem rather old not to have one. You’re already fifteen, almost sixteen, aren’t you? Do they not use wands in Japan?”

“Use wands for what?”

“Directing magic, of course.”

Ichigo rubbed the back of his head. The school had supposedly sent this lady to answer all his questions, but it seemed like the more they talked the more confused he became. “When you say that word, ‘magic,’ are you talking about kidō? Because I don’t really know how to do that, I mean, maybe I could conjure one of those energy balls—Hado 33 or whatever? But, I think it’d probably blow up in my face.”

She was frowning at him, her face pinched almost into a scowl. “I told Dumbeldore he should come here himself,” she muttered. “We may need a translator of some sort. Now, I understand your father is a registered magical, do you think he could help us?”

“Dad? My Dad? Magical? What are you talking about?”

“Oh,” she seemed very startled. “I take it your father never told you he was a wizard? Well, that’s not all that uncommon in mixed marriages. I suppose that accounts for your lack of understanding. I think maybe I’ll leave you a few pamphlets for you to read over and then, perhaps, I can take you and your sister to Diagon Alley tomorrow morning.”

She dug through a purse she had in her lap and pulled out a manuscript that seemed much too large to have come from such a small bag. She put those on the paper and then searched for something else. She came up with a big, leather bound book.

“Here,” she said. “This is _Hogwart’s: A History_. It’s the perfect primer. You should try to read it and these others, all right?”

"Um, okay," Ichigo agreed.

She stood up and Ichigo scrambled to his feet as well. Ichigo saw her to the door. She seemed very baffled by his bow, but she returned a rather sloppy one that was more of a nod than a proper bow, and waved good-bye.  But she paused at the threshold and said, "Has anyone told you how much you look like a Weasley?"

"A weasle?"

"No, no, dear, Weasley," she prounced carefully.  "You don't happen to be related to Molly Weasley, do you?  I mean, perhaps the Japanese branch of the family?  Only your hair..."

 _...is bright orange, yeah_.  "No, sorry, no weasles in my family."

"Ah, too bad.  I think you'd get along swimmingly.  Very personable, the lot of them.  Well, perhaps you'll be in Fred and George's class!"

"Sure, that'd be great," Ichigo said.  He watched her leave with a single thought:  _Swimning weasles and Hogs.  Shit._   _England is the weirdest country, ever._

 


End file.
